


Imbroglio

by SlimeQueen



Series: Fate [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - MAMA (Music Video), M/M, Rough Sex, They have super powers and fuck, like i wouldn't even tag it tbh, mafia!au, mild bloodplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 10:25:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4915966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlimeQueen/pseuds/SlimeQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongdae's first official mission and Yixing fucks him into a wall as consolation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imbroglio

**Author's Note:**

> -Request: "Can I ask for an evil mama au where Chenlay get off on killing people with their powers and they have wild sex afterwards. EXO M could all be evil and EXO K could be trying/failing to stop them from killing people."  
> -Sorry they aren't exactly "evil" per se lol but i had to give them some depth. Also Mafia!AU was incorporated for plot. I hope i did your prompt justice, anon!  
> -there's a 10 year skip at the horizontal line  
> Please don't steal or repost my work on any other website without my permission, thank you!

Yixing comes to live with them when he's twelve, thin and dirty faced and livid at the world. Jongdae's father hushes him at the meeting when he tries to ask where the strange boy came from, but later, the leader in their group of makeshift friends, Yifan, gathers all the children close in their shared room and stoops down to whisper all the facts.

 "K found him in their supply. They kicked him out and left him in the street, and when Zhou Mi found him, he brought him in. You know any enemy of K's is a friend of ours. The meeting earlier was to decide if we trust him or not."

Tao, their youngest, looks up with big eyes and promptly states, “I don’t trust him.”

Lu Han scrunches up his pretty face and shrugs. “He didn’t look that bad.” Jongdae isn’t surprised. He had seen the elder sneaking over to talk to Yixing over dinner, speaking rapidly under his breath so no one would catch him.

Minseok, always the kindest, reaches a hand out and places it on Jongdae’s knee. “What do you think?” he asks. Jongdae tries his best not to flinch away from his icy hands, knowing the kind of hurt that always flashes in the eldest’s eyes when someone does that.

Jongdae thinks carefully. “I think," he begins softly, “There’s no use in keeping him. If he got caught, I bet he’s not even so good of a thief. And he’s not like us, so I don’t see the point.”

Yifan hums and decides it’s too late to talk anymore then. He ushers everyone off to their beds. “There’s early training tomorrow.” He reminds them.

-

The next day, Jongdae is in the courtyard in the middle of training when he gets another look at Yixing. Zhou Mi walks just ahead of him, probably giving him a tour of the large building that houses most of the mafia. Jongdae sees him stumble a little, eyes wide as he takes in everything and feels a rush of pity. It can’t be easy to take all this in for the first time.

Luckily for Jongdae, his family has been in with M for a long time, so he grew up around the mafia. When they had found out about his talents at the age of seven, when he’d accidentally lit one of the trees in the courtyard on fire during a thunderstorm, his parents had both been thrilled. The genetic mutation is so rare these days, finding a team of five whole people for training had taken years to form.

 Jia, one of the instructors assigned to their special group, claps her hands together loudly under Jongdae’s nose to get his attention. He startles, eyes widening in fear before realizing his mistake.

“Daydreaming is not on our agenda.” Her eyes flash dangerously and she points to the sky. “I want to see lightning, Jongdae.”

Jongdae looks up and sighs at the rolling dark clouds. Off to his side, Minseok has a bowl of water he freezes and unfreezes to the exact temperatures their other instructor, Fei, gives him. Jongdae knows if he looks hard enough, he’ll see that too much time has elapsed because of Zitao.

He’s not allowed to summon lightning down yet. His power is too dangerous for that, especially when he doesn’t have full control yet. Lighting, Jongdae thinks, is untamable. He can conjure it to the sky just fine and static shock people flat onto their backs, but actually making a bolt strike down is a completely different story.

He squints and tries to coax out another bolt in the sky, but nothing happens.

When he sneaks a glance back where Yixing had been, he’s gone.

-

They decide to invite the boy to sit with them that night. The big warehouse-type building where the main kitchen is happens to be very lonely if you don’t know where to sit, and Yixing looks smaller than ever in one of the corner tables.

Yifan goes over to extend the invitation, and after a couple seconds, Yixing stands and follows the older boy back to the table. He ends up between Lu Han, who won’t stop asking him things in rapid fire Mandarin, and Jongdae, who stays silent the entire meal.

Yixing turns out to be not too much of a talker anyways, only speaking when Lu Han questions him in a soft voice. Jongdae finds out that he had lived in the streets, parents long dead, relying on thieving as a source of money and food.

He hesitates when Lu Han asks, “What were you doing at K? You know they’re our enemies, right?”

Thankfully, Minseok nudges Lu Han in the ribs then and takes over the conversation. “Do you know what we do?”

Yixing shrugs. “Kill people? Deal drugs?”

Even at eleven years old, Jongdae knows more about this than Yixing. “We monitor street violence too, and sometimes we help in the drug trade. Mostly, we get rid of the bad people who mess with the balance of the Underworld.”

Yixing doesn’t look impressed, but then again, Jongdae hadn’t thought he would.

“Anyways, us kids are here training because we can do extra things and we’re in the special squad.” Zitao juts in.

Yifan’s sharp eyes turn on the youngest and he sucks in a breath. “Shut _up_ , Tao.” He hisses, and probably kicks him under the table because Zitao shrieks and slumps in his seat with a sullen expression.

Yixing looks confused now, but he doesn’t question Zitao’s words and continues eating.

-

The night Yixing's fate is decided, there's another meeting. His face, now filling in that Zhou Mi has been feeding him, strikes something in Jongdae. There's a glow about him, and despite the sullen set of his lips and the way his eyebrows draw up, Jongdae thinks that's the kind of face he can see smiling.

Before Jongdae's father can make the announcement, Yixing stands and cries "Wait!" and pulls a knife.

Jongdae feels several adults in the room react immediately, hands reaching for their guns. Jongdae has time to wonder how _stupid_ Yixing must be to try and use a knife on a _mafia_ before Yixing does the unexpected. He stabs himself, right in the center of the hand.

“I’m like you,” Yixing pleads, removing the knife with a sickening _shclick._ Jongdae has to lean in under all the adults to see, but when he does, whatever has everyone gasping is evidently over because Yixing stands, looking small in the center of the room with his hand held in front of him.

Only, there’s no injury.

“Like Lu Han and Yifan.” Yixing says softly. “I can do things too. I don’t get hurt. And if someone else is hurt, I can heal them.” He wipes blood off on his shirt, smearing the red across the fabric where it seeps in and darkens.

Jongdae’s eyes meet Yixing’s for a second, and he deliberately nods, just enough for it not to be noticed. Yixing sees the gesture and continues.

“I can help you guys. I can steal, and I could learn how to use guns.” Yixing’s voice doesn’t waver once, soft and calm despite the twenty or so adults and five children in the room staring right him.

 By the time everyone regains composure, the children are ushered out as the adults begin to discuss.

Yifan sends one sharp look their way and all of them trail after him to their room. They end up sitting in a circle on Yifan’s bed, talking in excited hushed voices until Zitao yawns and Minseok declares that it’s time for bed.

-

Jongdae tries to sleep, really he does. But the thought of a new recruit has him too excited to quiet his racing mind. Yixing, with his healing abilities should be the perfect addition to the team.

Sometime after midnight, the door creaks open and soft footsteps sound through the room. Jongdae’s breath quickens when he hears the squeaking springs in the mattress of the bed that usually goes unused in the corner of the room.

The sixth member of their team has been chosen.

-

Jongdae begins to see more and more of the strange boy as the days of their training go on. Yixing is quiet, maybe even more so than Minseok, always there when they spar to fix up any bruises and cuts. Jongdae, with his unruly ability, isn’t allowed to participate, so he watches and picks up physical combat tips.

Tao, despite his young age, is the most skilled fighter, and with his powers cloaking his presence from those he freezes in time, he’s unstoppable. Even this early on, Jongdae has heard his father and the other higher ups discussing more intense assassin training for the boy.

Yixing also turns out to be good at hand to hand combat, knocking both Lu Han and Jongdae flat on their backs in no time. At their curious glances, he shrugs and smiles, “I had to fight a lot in the streets.”

Jongdae doesn’t mean to be impressed, but when the elder boy tenderly holds Jongdae’s hand between his own to heal all the scrapes and bruises littering his skin, he can’t suppress the strange fluttering in his stomach.

* * *

 

Jongdae awakes to a stormy sky, dark clouds churning outside his bedroom window. The bed on the other side of the room is empty. Jongdae stretches, smiling in satisfaction when his joints pop. Stormy days always make him restless, something electric lurking right under his skin. The last time the weather was in his favor, he wound up giving little accidental static shocks to everyone who touched him all day until Yifan had gotten sick of it and banished him to his room.

Something curls in anticipation in his lower belly as he drags himself out of bed, across the cold wood floor to the rest of the apartment. The bedrooms he passes are all empty, as the other five all usually wake before him.

Minseok sits at the table, checking the newspaper, bowl of rice in front of him. He’s wearing multiple layers as usual, fingerless gloves on his hands. Jongdae’s always found it funny, how much Minseok hates the cold despite his ability making him have an affinity for it.

A look out to their little grimy balcony shows him Yifan and Zitao huddled close together for warmth as they share a cigarette. Jongdae remembers the last time they had smoked inside, how Lu Han had quite literally _thrown_ them out, tossing them out the front door without ever lifting a finger. Yifan had not been impressed, and then decided that use of abilities on other team members without consent is not allowed.

As if anyone listens to that rule. Jongdae smirks as he sees Yifan freeze, then Zitao throw his head back and cackle, grabbing the smoke from the leader’s hand to take a couple extra drags before he returns it and starts time again for Yifan.

Yixing comes in from the kitchen then, clad only in sweatpants and a thin tank top that makes Jongdae’s throat go dry. “Morning,” he greets softly, hand brushing Jongdae’s hip as he passes.

It’s a casual gesture, just a friendly touch, but it has Jongdae’s palms sweating nonetheless. There are too many memories of being held open by those hands, of being touched _just right_ for Jongdae to not be affected.

He swallows and forces out a “Hey,” then retreats to the kitchen to see what he can salvage for breakfast. As far as most mornings go for them, it’s a lazy one.

He eats in a half comatose state, mind still muddled with sleep. Lu Han is nowhere to be found, he notices with some unsettlement. He can’t be on a mission, because Minseok is still here.

Yifan and Zitao’s jobs are to deal with people, _deal_ being the loosest term he uses. Technically, they could be called assassins. Minseok and Lu Han are cleanup, and Yixing and Jongdae stay home and help anyone injured after missions.

It’s not fit to Jongdae’s abilities of course, but with reckless powers like his, Yifan had decided early on when they’d all move into their little apartment that Jongdae’s ability is too dangerous and uncontrollable for him to go out on missions.

That is, until Lu Han bursts in at that very moment, eyes wild and hair mussed. “It’s been decided,” he says loud enough that all five of them turn to the door where he comes in, “Jongdae is to be tested. For his blade.

Jongdae’s stomach drops.

-

It’s not odd for the main branch to be calling them to send them missions and ask for updates, but requesting a specific person for a mission is usually unheard of. Much less Jongdae, who has never killed anyone in his life.

It’s strange, he knows, because the other’s all have their badges of honor, coming in the form of the steel blade that their group is famous for. But with his ability, going on missions is unthinkable. Just the anticipation is making the sky flash menacingly, his fingers crackling as he attempts to button his jeans.

All day, Yifan and Minseok have been holed in the leader’s room, speaking in hushed voices about _why_ the main branch would want to test Jongdae, why they would risk something like that.

Zitao and Yixing, always ones for physical contact, sit close all day, Zitao’s head heavy and comforting in his lap although at twenty years old, he has about half a foot on Jongdae and is just too big to fit properly, Yixing’s slim fingers stroking soothingly down his arm. Lu Han paces when he’s on edge, dragging his feet along the carpet in their living room over and over until he’s so static-charged that when Jongdae reaches a hand out to stop him, there’s a strange zapping noise and Lu Han recoils as if burned.

Yixing’s quick to fix it though, used to injury-by-ability in the apartment. Lu Han’s shriek does nothing to help Jongdae’s roiling stomach though, and while he would usually find it amusing, now it strikes some trepidation into him.

Sundown comes surprisingly quickly, and Jongdae tenses on the couch when Yifan’s door opens and a grim-faced Minseok walks out, fingers wrapped around his phone. “It’s true.” He confirms.

Zitao’s little gasp is drowned out by the rush of blood in Jongdae’s ears, and even Yixing’s hand around his seems like an empty gesture because _what the fuck_ that’s not his job, he’s not supposed to be out on assignments at all, much less in weather like _this_ where every facet of his ability is enhanced and a thousand times more dangerous.

-

Usually, they get names.

They get names, times, and locations, sent through the main branch to Yifan’s phone, but today, instead of the leader next to him in the car, it’s Yixing with his knuckles white with how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel. They’d decided on the healer going after Lu Han had snorted and said, “You know he’s the only one who can keep Jongdae calm.”

On any other occasion, Jongdae would complain, but on a night like this he’s glad it’s Yixing instead of Zitao or Minseok or anyone else.

Jongdae’s stomach flutters, little shocks of anxiety jolting through him like electricity. There’s a gun in a holster on his waist, and Yixing assures him he can use it instead of his ability, like Yifan had for his blade, but Jongdae has an itching feeling he won’t need it.

The air outside is humid when they get out of the car, so thick that Jongdae can practically feel the heaviness when he wiggles his fingers. Yixing’s hand brushes his hip once as they walk, but he’s not sure if it’s a reassuring gesture or coincidence.

It’s a simple concept. In, kill the man whose name had been given-a police snitch-, then out. Yixing had gone over the plan over and over in the car until Jongdae’s sure he won’t be able to get it out of his head for days.

There’s a vaguely menacing alley and a dim street lamp washing everything yellow. Jongdae watches the shadows move across Yixing’s face, throwing one side into darkness. Under the streetlamp is a man in a hoodie. Not too suspicious, but just out of the ordinary enough to know there’s something going on.

“That’s our man.” Yixing whispers as he grips the empty briefcase tighter. Jongdae nods imperceptibly and keeps his face carefully blank.

Yixing makes the negotiations. He collects the money and is about to hand the case over when it all goes to hell.

The man whips out a gun, and before Yixing can react, Jongdae hears a shot and the healer’s on the ground.

Jongdae’s heart rate spikes and goes erratic as he reaches for his own gun, but simultaneously reaches up with his other hand. There’s a cloud of panic in his mind, hazing everything over and all he can see is the bright red of blood seeping through Yixing’s clean white button-down.

There’s a blinding flash of light and heat, indescribably intense heat that rips through him and leaves him breathless. Jongdae cries out both in pain and shock but then there’s something.

It’s lightning, _his_ lightning, coming down on the rat so fast that he can’t comprehend it, can only feel it flowing through him, unbelievably powerful to the point where he thinks his physical body is being torn apart from all the static and chaotic pulsing power surging in it. It’s akin to being burned alive and somehow to that time Yifan had picked him up and dangled him 50 feet in the air when he was 15, only to let him drop a couple feet before catching him by the feet.

Something splatters.

Jongdae chokes on his own saliva and bile, bitter and forced up his throat as he dry heaves, ribcage contracting frantically as he struggles to breathe. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck_ ,

There’s sticky thick blood between his fingers, on his shirt, on his bare arms and everywhere in between, the fried out body of the man face down on the pavement. Jongdae takes one step backwards after another, fingers shaking where they still grip his gun.

Suddenly, Yixing is there, having probably healed himself immediately, soft hands on his hips, tugging him close. “Are you hurt? Do you need me to help?” Jongdae can’t bring himself to reply, his throat dry and aching.

Yixing’s limber fingers untangle his shaking ones from the gun, and then toss it to the side. Jongdae knows the cleanup people will pick it up when they dispose of the body.

His entire body is trembling, he notices with some dissatisfaction. He doesn’t want to look like he’s wavering in front of Yixing, of all people.

But he’s not. Wavering, that is. It’s adrenaline flooding his system that makes him quake uncontrollably, making his fingertips crackle with electric pulses and the sky flash even through there’s barely a cloud in sight.

And somehow, even with the splatters of blood soaking through his thin black shirt and on his face and hands, there’s something akin to _excitement_ flowing through his veins, power hungry and horrible. The metallic scent of the man’s lifeblood permeates the air and charges it with something that makes the hair on Jongdae’s arms stand on end.

He doesn’t even realize he’s half hard in his pants until Yixing lays a hand on his hip, palm warm even through the denim of his jeans.

It’s a natural thing, he knows. The thrill of a mission, the adrenaline rush that often accompanies it. He’s seen Zitao return from a mission to lock himself in a room with Yifan far too many times not to know all this.

But this is the first time he’s experienced it firsthand. Yixing’s eyes sweep over his body, lingering on the obvious bulge in his jeans and Jongdae lets out a shuddery breath.

All he can think about is the exact second the lighting came down, flowing through the man in an infinite second, more power than he has ever experienced before, then disappeared. Sickeningly, it makes his insides tingle with more glee than disgust. _He_ had done that, had the ability in _his_ hands.

Jongdae doesn’t realize he’s crying until Yixing is smoothing thin fingers down his cheeks to sweep up the tears.

Once he does, though, it’s as if a dam has been broken. His legs give, and before Yixing can catch him, his knees hit the blood-covered ground. Immediately, his jeans soak through, but he can’t bring himself to care because his chest is heaving with sobs, and there’s _not enough air in his lungs_ , and all he can think about is the exact second his lightning had struck the man and _killed him_ and _why_ can’t he fucking _breathe_ , for god’s sake?

“ _Jongdae_.” Yixing slides down onto the pavement in front of him, painfully crystalline voice breaking through the increasing panic in his mind. “I need you to breath for me, come on, in and out.” He speaks quietly, but each word hits Jongdae like a punch until he inhales sharply.

Relief floods his lungs, and he lets himself fall into Yixing’s body. Absently, he notes that Yixing strokes his back lightly and it’s not helping his adrenaline induced erection, and he’s probably getting blood all over the elder’s nice white button down, but he’s too worked up to mind.

He doesn’t realize Yixing has a thigh slid between his legs until he’s already rutting steadily against it, spurred on by the way Yixing’s breath hitches and he’s taken aback by how _good_ it feels, when he’s all high on power like this.

He supposes he should be disgusted, this turned on after killing someone, but as Yixing strokes thin fingers down his back, he finds himself moaning and reaching out to join their lips. Jongdae’s mouth parts against Yixing’s desperately and he tastes the tears streaming down his face, salty and stinging his cracked lips.

“Jongdae,” Yixing tries to say again, but this time his voice is soft like a warning.

“Don’t,” Jongdae sobs, voice cracking on the syllable, his chest heaving violently, “Don’t stop, don’t tell me to stop.” He feels like he’s drowning and Yixing’s touch keeps him afloat, so he clings, helpless and gasping for breath between hot devouring kisses.

Yixing sighs exasperatedly against his neck, and then he feels the fine tremors run down the long line of Yixing’s back when his tongue sweeps deeper into the elder’s mouth.

“Xing,” he hiccups, “I need you.”

Yixing’s arms are on him in an instant, one around his waist and one gently cupping his face to tilt it up and closer. In between the blur of tears, Jongdae finally sees Yixing lose it.

Yixing licks into his mouth, filthy and deep and exactly how Jongdae needs, hands coming to hold Jongdae’s jaw, then digs his thumbs into the hinges until the younger’s mouth parts automatically in half pain half surprise. “Come on,” he says, tugging Jongdae up onto shaky feet, “We can’t do this here.”

He’s half carried into the alley, and then Yixing is slamming him against the wall chest first, Jongdae hisses when it stings, but the pain registers as pleasure like he’s never felt before, electric pulses flooding through his body and making it heat up.

Yixing’s hand strokes down his spine, sending little shocks and shivers up his body. His legs threaten to give at any moment, trembling under his weight. He’s never felt to simultaneously powerful and vulnerable.

The next thing he can process is Yixing sliding onto the ground again, unbuckling his belt and dragging his jeans down his legs along with his underwear. Jongdae’s hands come up to clutch his face of their own accord, but it gives him some space off the wall where Yixing pushes him. His hips are grabbed roughly, and then pulled back so they stick out.

Yixing’s hand wraps around his body to cup his erection and Jongdae’s breath hitches on how good that alone feels. Then there are fingers spreading him open, and he feels Yixing’s next exhale against his hole. He clenches uncontrollably, muffling a noise into his knuckles.

“Fuck,” he pants, “Just hurry, oh my god,” The words get caught in his throat and he chokes on them, but thankfully Yixing rises and leans forward, chest pressing to his back.

There’s an obscene slick noise as Yixing sucks on his own fingers, and then there are wet fingers pressing into Jongdae’s ass, sliding around to circle the rim one, twice, until Jongdae’s feet shake so bad he’s sure he’s about to collapse. It’ll be painful without lube, he’s sure, but with this much adrenaline crashing through his veins, he doesn’t care.

Yixing’s first finger slides in easily with saliva alone, and Jongdae’s always been good at this part, letting his body go lax and open up. Yixing gives him no time to adjust before pushing in a second, and this time it hurts, makes him grit his teeth and exhale heavily, but Yixing’s other hand tightens on his abdomen and some of the pain is taken away.

Yixing’s fingers scissor apart, and holy shit it burns, but Jongdae sets his jaw and takes it. He’s the one who wanted this, and he’s going through with it. There’s too much excitement tingling inside him to stop now.

A couple seconds (or minutes, Jongdae’s perception of time seems a little muddled) later, Yixing pulls his fingers out and turns him around. Jongdae’s hands immediately reach for Yixing’s jeans, grabbing at the tight denim and pulling the material down so it puddles around the taller’s knees.

Jongdae’s back hits a wall a second later, and it knocks the wind out of him. “Breathe,” Yixing reminds him, mouth open against the younger’s jaw. His hands press on the back of Jongdae’s thighs, urging him closer. Suddenly, Jongdae can’t feel the ground underneath his feet anymore because Yixing takes him under the knees and _hoists him up against the wall_.

He moans helplessly, the thought alone of being fucked against a wall making fire course through his body. Yixing’s cock is hot where it presses against the cleft of his ass, and Jongdae twitches his hips down, barely thinking anything save for that he needs it _inside him_.

The head of Yixing’s cock stretches him open then, and Jongdae keens unconsciously, arms wrapping around Yixing’s chest and head fitting into the nape of the taller’s neck. It stings so badly, but it’s Yixing, so the pain is relieved immediately.

Jongdae is vaguely aware of the thunder booming above them, lighting flashing, unruly and bright because he’s too fucking worked up and can’t help it. Yixing’s hands, which usually are so soothing, are rough and dominating where they cup the soft skin behind his thighs and somehow send even _more_ of whatever clouds his mind and makes his whole body tremble through him.

Yixing gives a slow thrust, and Jongdae’s whole hypersensitive body jolts, a gasp slipping out of his mouth. His fingers dig into the healer’s skin, probably leaving red marks, but he knows those will disappear immediately. Yixing never scars.

Yixing’s cock fills him slowly, hot and thick and perfect, and Jongdae’s back arches off the wall as he tries to press down more. “I _want_ ,” he whines, squirming in the elder’s hold.

Yixing chuckles. “I know, I think I definitely know.” He whispers, voice just hoarse enough to make the words sound frustratingly arousing. Jongdae bites his lip and throws his head back, hips rolling involuntarily.

Yixing holds him up, back against the harsh brick of the wall, and fucks into him properly, head buried in the crook of Jongdae’s neck. His breath is harsh against Jongdae’s ears, extra loud in the dark of the night.

Yixing’s body is hot against his own, and he should be claustrophobic with how crowded in he feels with Yixing pressing him into the wall, but all he feels is raw unadulterated pleasure. Yixing’s touch envelopes everything, wiping his mind clean of the metallic scent of blood, of the sticky slick feeling of it between his fingers, of the stomach churning sizzle as the man was burned from inside out.

Instead, there’s suddenly the even more sickening feeling of blood _down there_. Jongdae panics and is about to shout until he realizes Yixing has healed where he had torn open. Holy shit.

Yixing is fucking him using his own blood.

Jongdae’s cock jumps between them, pulsing precome at the thought. It’s horrifying and arousing and too horrible to even think about, but Jongdae feels nothing but complete euphoria at the sick noise of his own blood lubing Yixing’s way inside him. And yet, he can’t bring himself to think about it.

Instead, he focuses on how Yixing’s cock splits him open, sending jolts of lighting down his spine and makes everything else seem irrelevant. Jongdae feels like he’s caught in a tide, being washed away helplessly as Yixing seemingly breaks him down over and over, and then stitches him back together.

“ _Xing_ ,” he tries to cry out, but his throat is dry and aching and it comes out horrible. His cock twitches, trapped between their bodies, leaking precome onto Yixing’s hard, tensed abdomen. The rough bricks dig into his back, scraping and breaking the skin, but Yixing’s arms, wound under his knees and hands tight on his hips have them healing quickly.

Jongdae thinks he might be going crazy, because Yixing fucks just on the edge of _too rough_ but heals twice as fast, and the effect has Jongdae aching one second and incoherent with pleasure the next, until he can’t think anymore, can only sob and hold on for dear life.

Then Yixing’s teeth sink into the junction of his neck and shoulder, easily breaking through the skin. Jongdae cries out, white flashing behind his eyelids in pain, but it gets stuck in his throat because the skin knits itself back together immediately.

He tastes blood then, sharp and salty, and with a start, he realizes in a bout of incoherency, he’d bit through the skin of his bottom lip. Yixing’s lips are on his in a second, kissing harsher than he had before, mouth open against Jongdae’s, tongue sliding wet into the younger’s mouth. When he licks over the broken skin, it immediately seals back together, but remains swollen.

Jongdae can feel the way his stomach tightens, especially when Yixing holds him up solely with one hand and with the sheer leverage of his hips and then uses his free hand to pinch and pull at Jongdae’s stiff nipples until they ache unbearably.

Then he rakes his nails down the line of Jongdae’s torso, drawing dark red to the surface, and heals it just as fast, and Jongdae knows it’s all over. His body convulses, trying to draw in on itself, his muscles pull tight and he comes, hips rolling helplessly against Yixing’s, lost in waves of euphoria and borderline _painpleasurepainpleasure_.

He feels the hot wet splatter of come hit his abdomen, smearing when Yixing hikes him up the wall and grunts, “Fuck, just like that baby,” and fucks into him harder. His cock stretches open Jongdae’s insides, raw and brutal.

Jongdae really could faint with how his head swims in the midst of overstimulation, with how Yixing’s cock is thick and hot inside him, stretching him open in a way that feels utterly too much.

Yixing’s tongue runs up his face, licking a broad stripe over his cheekbones, and the feeling is completely obscene as Yixing tastes his tears, leaving his hot saliva cooling over Jongdae’s skin. Jongdae keens, eyes shut, head falling back on his neck, too weak to support any part of his body anymore. Thankfully, Yixing is strong enough to keep him up.

Jongdae feels his ass clench instinctively as Yixing’s thrusts become more and more erratic, powerful hips driving into him so the flat lines of Yixing’s pelvis slap the soft flesh on the back of his thighs and make vulgar sounds.

He can hear himself gasping out probably incomprehensible single syllables with every thrust that jolts him up the wall, but it’s too faint over the deafening rush of blood in his ears.

Then Yixing bites him again, harder than he had before, and with a noise muffled into Jongdae’s skin, he comes, cock pulsing and emptying deep inside Jongdae’s body. He rocks his hips through his orgasm, licking lazily over the torn, abused skin until the cut is gone and all that remains is deep, deep scarlet that runs down Jongdae’s shoulder and stains the shirt he has hiked up around his armpits.

Not that it matters. The shirt is already ruined with the dead man’s blood.

Jongdae shudders when Yixing lets him down, slowly, gently, but his knees give and he sinks down on the cold gravel, dripping blood and come and sweat. Yixing’s come seeps slow and cooling out of his swollen rim and down between his thighs, but the feeling isn’t unpleasant. Jongdae sits for a second, chest heaving as he tries to regain his composure.

When Jongdae looks up again, his eyes lose their lucidity. Yixing smiles without humor, twisted and strangely emotionless. He extends a hand to the trembling boy under him.

Jongdae takes it, letting himself be heaved up. His legs also seem to be back to normal because he can stand now, albeit shakily.

Jongdae doesn’t look at the dead body outside the alleyway. He averts his eyes as Yixing helps him redress and get to the car. Once he’s in the seat, his whole body sags down, exhausted and empty of adrenaline.

He can hear Yixing speaking on the phone with Yifan, but his consciousness doesn’t seem to be all there because his voice seems to be out of focus and distant.

Jongdae slips away into the darkness of his own mind a second later.

-

“Congratulations.” Minseok says, but the words are bittersweet. He holds out the blade and Jongdae takes it with steady hands. “Your first kill.”

It’s a silly tradition, but necessary. The blade is a sign, and everyone except Jongdae has had one until now. Curved, wicked sharp, and glinting steel, with an elaborately detailed handle, the blade feels heavier than just metal and wood in Jongdae’s hand. It’s not just the physical blade, but also the weight that comes with claiming a human life.

Jongdae looks up, and his eyes meet Yixing’s.

They’re dark and kind and steady and unrelenting, and make Jongdae feel safer than he ever has, even with the equivalent of a human life in his hand.

He smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://eatjinsass.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/whinytaeyong) come hmu


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